


All I have to offer is my love

by Tunfisken



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, BDSM Scene, Coping, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deepthroating, Echolalia, Flapping, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Insomnia, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Neurodiversity, Nonverbal Communication, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, References to Evo, Respawn Mechanics, Rough Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Sensory Overload, Sign Language, Stimming, Subspace, Touch-Starved, Trauma, Trust, Watcher Grian, Winged Charles | Grian, bad mental health day, harmful stimming, temporary death mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tunfisken/pseuds/Tunfisken
Summary: 'They lied together like that for a while, neither party speaking, and yet, Grian couldn’t seem to fall back asleep. After some time had passed, Grian’s hand had unconsciously wandered up from Zedaph’s back to the man’s head, and Grian was absentmindedly running his fingers through the pale blond strands of hair, feeling how soft and silky Zedaph’s curls were. It was a nice sensation, Grian mused. It felt good against his skin.'A collection of drabbles about neurodivergency, acceptance and affection.
Relationships: Charles | Grian/GoodTimesWithScar, Charles | Grian/Steffen Mossner | Docm77, Zedaph/Grian
Comments: 71
Kudos: 256





	1. I wanna say that it will be alright

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy y'all, Tuna here, starting a new project as I always to in [Redacted].
> 
> These drabbles will be self indulgent and projecting and full of the things I've learned when it comes to mental health and neurodivergency. Not all of the drabbles will be in the same timeline/universe, but they will all be loosely connected. I won't be going into details about different diagnoses, because I prefer to keep this label-less, but you can all headcanon whatever you like. Symptoms often overlap, anyway.
> 
> Mind the tags, stay safe, and have fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Angst, fluff, sex, mentions of temporary character death, respawn mechanics, nonverbal communication, frottage, overstimulation.

~ * ~

Grian awoke with a start.

There was someone in his bed, someone that hadn’t been there moments before, and there were limbs struggling and Grian couldn’t _breathe—_

A small whimper that wasn’t his own managed to cut through his panicked thoughts, and Grian froze. The other body on the bed went still with him. He blinked up at the person, and a mop of pale blond curls met him. Slowly, the person raised their head enough for Grian to see—

“Zedaph?” Grian said, voice hoarse and groggy with sleep and the remaining traces of fear. “What are you… _how_ did—” Grian swallowed when his throat closed in on itself, feeling scratchy and raw. Zedaph still wasn’t replying, just staring down at him with a lost expression, and Grian had to make a guess. “Did… did you just die, and respawn in my bed?”

Zedaph shuddered on top of him, and after a moment, he nodded.

“Oh,” Grian breathed, forcing himself to relax beneath the taller man. “Do you need help recovering your things?”

Again, Zedaph whimpered, before burrowing his face into Grian’s chest. Well.

“It’s okay Zed - you can stay if you want.”

Zedaph shuddered on top of him, and Grian raised his hands to wrap them protectively around the other man. Zedaph sighed against his chest, and squirmed around until they were fit more comfortably against one another, pressed closely together from head to toe.

Grian found it easier to relax, then. The weight and pressure against his body was relaxing, grounding. It helped to calm the still elevated beat of his heart, and it made it easier to breathe, despite the pressure against his chest.

They lied together like that for a while, neither party speaking, and yet, Grian couldn’t seem to fall back asleep. After some time had passed, Grian’s hand had unconsciously wandered up from Zedaph’s back to the man’s head, and Grian was absentmindedly running his fingers through the pale blond strands of hair, feeling how soft and silky Zedaph’s curls were. It was a nice sensation, Grian mused. It felt good against his skin.

Suddenly, Zedaph made a small noise above him, and Grian tilted his head down curiously.

Zedaph squirmed until his elbows were propped up against Grian’s ribcage, and Zedaph met his gaze.

“What is it?” Grian asked, voice quiet.

Zedaph didn’t answer, though Grian could see him working his lips, as though he was trying to speak but couldn’t quite manage to find his words.

The man’s elbows dug into Grian’s chest uncomfortably when Zedaph raised his arms and slowly started to sign at him, fingers trembling slightly. Grian winced at the pain, but he tried to pay attention to the signs. It was confusing, and Grian found that he didn’t understand as much as he’d have liked.

“Is that british sign language?” Grian interrupted, making Zedaph flinch. Slowly, the man shook his head.

“Oh. American, then? Did you learn it from Tango or Impulse?”

A nod this time, a small, hesitating movement accompanied by an uncertain look in Zedaph’s eyes.

“Okay,” Grian nodded, mind trying to figure out what to do. Zedaph must have a reason for not wanting or managing to speak, but the language barrier was somewhat frustrating. He wanted to help, somehow—

“Wait, okay. I know it’s not the most convenient, but could you try fingerspelling instead? That way I should understand you!” Grian smiled down at the taller man, one hand raising up to tangle in Zedaph’s hair again, petting him slightly when Zedaph’s eyes lit up. The blond curls bounced when Zedaph nodded his head. Grian’s attention moved back to Zedaph’s hands when they raised back up to start spelling.

_S-O-R-R-Y_

“No, don’t be sorry,” Grian gently chastised. “It’s not your fault. I don’t know what happened, but your reaction makes it obvious that you didn’t willingly end up in the position you are in. Okay?”

_I N-E-E-D_

Zedaph trailed off, gaze wandering off to the side as he tried to find his words. Grian waited patiently, gently carding through the pale strands on the man’s head, fingers carefully scratching at Zedaph’s scalp and making the taller man sigh contently.

The hands were raised again.

_C-A-N I T-O-U-C-H Y-O-U_

Zedaph lowered his hands, and Grian’s gaze shifted until he could meet his eyes again, gentle lilac staring into his eyes with a fragile look to them.

Grian licked his lips, feeling his pulse pick up slightly. “Aren’t we already?” he asked rhetorically, but when Zedaph huffed at him, Grian’s lips quirked up at the corners in a small smile as he replied, “Yes, you can. Whatever you need, Zed. I’m here. You can touch me.”

Zedaph made a small noise in the back of his throat, and then he shuffled up until his face was pressed into the crook of Grian’s neck.

Grian shuddered at the first press of soft lips to his bare skin, and he wrapped his arms around Zedaph’s shoulders. He pulled the taller man tight to himself, seeking some of that grounding weight and pressure he’d gotten before, and Zedaph let him, his weight settling fully onto Grian’s frame.

A small moan escaped him when Zedaph’s lips parted and he started to gently chew on the meat of Grian’s neck. It wasn’t quite a bite, not really - it was softer, somehow, and more of an unhurried nibble. The scrape of teeth still felt good, especially when Zedaph started rocking his hips against Grian’s.

“Oh,” Grian softly gasped out, arms tightening as he tried to pull Zedaph even closer. The steady motions between his own spread legs felt nice. Heavy, but slow, and Grian could feel the heat radiating from Zedaph’s body through the thin layers of the clothes the man had respawned in. Grian himself was only in boxers and a thin shirt, having opted to not have any of his wings out as he slept. It became very obvious when Zedaph started growing hard between Grian’s legs, the heat and feel of Zedaph rocking against him making Grian moan softly.

“Zed,” Grian panted, head relaxing back against the pillows. Zedaph didn’t reply, his lips still busy with worrying at the skin of Grian’s neck. Zedaph was gently sucking now, and Grian keened in the back of his throat when the pressure felt too soft, suddenly. Too fleeting.

“Please,” Grian breathed, trembling slightly beneath the taller man. “B-bite me harder? Feels too…” he trailed off. Zedaph gave a small noise of affirmation, and then his teeth were sinking into Grian’s skin.

Grian moaned and bucked up against Zedaph’s hips, only for the taller man to rock back and grind Grian back into the bed. Another moan, louder this time, spilled from Grian’s lips in between his panting breaths. Slowly, his body was growing more and more heated, and even though his back was starting to stick slightly to the mattress with damp, he found that he didn’t mind it, so long as Zedaph kept doing what he was doing. The pressure was _just_ right, and each movement sent pure heat throughout his body.

Zedaph kept grinding their hips together, even as he let his hands settle on Grian’s biceps before slowly trailing down his arms. Zedaph kept the pressure firm, and Grian gasped wetly into the stillness of the room around them at the sensation.

The warm hands trailed past his elbows and forearms until they, finally, settled at Grian’s wrists. Deft fingers wrapped around the thin skin there, and Grian felt his dick throb against Zedaph’s thigh when the taller man’s fingers dug into the prominent veins on the insides of Grian’s wrists. He could feel his own pulse against Zedaph’s hands, and a shallow gasp was drawn out of him when Zedaph pressed both of his hands hard against the mattress.

“Oh, Zed,” Grian whispered, feeling his skin flush as his body kept climbing in temperature, each shallow thrust against his crotch making everything grow warm and hazy and so, so good.

Zedaph was panting slightly, now, and Grian shuddered at each exhale of warm, damp breath against the skin of his neck. He bucked back up against Zedaph’s next thrust, and finally an actual noise spilled from the taller man’s lips, tickling against where Zedaph was working a mark into Grian’s skin.

It was just one small, drawn out moan, but it was enough to make Grian’s head go a bit silly with it. Everything was so hot, and the pressure of Zedaph against him felt _just right._ Every movement pulled him higher and higher, and it felt so good. It wouldn't be long until he came, if they kept going at they pace they were going.

Suddenly, Grian was hit with a feeling of uncertainty. What if he was reading into it all wrong?

Maybe Zedaph didn’t want to go that far. Maybe he just wanted to grind for a bit, but not actually take it any further. Maybe Grian was misunderstanding, making assumptions and ruining everything. He felt a pit grow in his stomach, the doubt weighing heavy on him in a way that made his body feel cold.

“Zed, is this… I, do you want me to— can I—”

He couldn’t quite manage to get the words out. Grian whimpered at the next thrust against his dick, feeling the hard, hot pressure of Zedaph’s cock against his own, dragging so sweetly and making Grian’s toes curl. Oh gods, he was going to ruin everything—

Zedaph made a small sound against his neck, and then his mouth left Grian’s skin.

A sob tore from Grian’s throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the feeling of tears welling up , threatening to spill down his cheeks. Zedaph was going to up and leave, and it would be Grian’s fault for being too much. That’s what _they_ had always told him - and they’d been _right._ Grian was too much, too greedy, too _selfish—_

But Zedaph didn’t leave.

Zedaph was kissing him.

Grian made a small, confused noise, even as he let Zedaph’s lips work his own open, the taller man swallowing down his sounds as a warm tongue pressed into Grian’s mouth.

Zedaph’s soft lips were pillowing his own, moving gently, and Grian couldn’t help but sob again, feeling so overwhelmed and grateful - confused, yes, but grateful nonetheless. Zedaph was still rocking his hips in between Grian’s legs, and soon Grian was making small, breathy whines on every exhale. Zedaph kept kissing him, his tongue darting out to lick at Grian’s slack lips, coaxing even more soft sounds out of the smaller man.

“Zed,” Grian breathed out, so quietly that it was barely audible. Zedaph’s hands tightened around his wrists, just for a moment—

At the next thrust against his dick, Grian moaned quietly as he came.

Gentle, sticky release, pleasure flowing through his body in waves. Each peak pulled him beneath the surface, and Grian was no longer aware of what kind of sounds he was making, nor was he in control of how his body squirmed and moved beneath Zedaph’s frame. The taller man didn’t seem to mind - Zedaph kept kissing Grian’s parted lips, hips still rocking against Grian’s.

As Grian came down from his orgasm, he started squirming. The overstimulation of Zedaph’s continued movements _hurt,_ it felt bad, no no _no—_

He didn’t realise the tears had finally spilled from his eyes before Zedaph’s hands had unwrapped from around his wrists to start wiping them away. Grian blinked his eyes open, uncertain of when he’d closed them in the first place. He met Zedaph’s eyes.

Soft purple, gazing at him with concern and hesitation. Warm, now slightly damp fingers resting so tenderly against his cheek.

Grian had to kiss him again for that. Just a quick dart upwards, and the soft feeling of Zedaph’s lips against his own.

Zedaph smiled down at him, thumb stroking Grian’s cheek. Grian tilted his head into the touch, before speaking.

“Can I turn around? I want you to keep going, if that’s okay.”

Zedaph’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and he nodded, before slowly - almost reluctantly - drawing away from Grian’s body.

Grian didn’t like it any more than Zedaph did. The light, cold feeling the lack of pressure left behind was making his body ache, and a tremble was settling into Grian’s hands. His legs felt jittery. He didn’t like the feeling one bit. With hurried movements, Grian flipped onto his stomach, before spreading his legs once again. He nodded, once.

Then Zedaph was covering him again, warm limbs pressing Grian’s front into the soft mattress - and Grian sighed with relief as he felt the restlessness in his body fade away.

Zedaph’s hands quickly found Grian’s wrists again, and he tightened his grip around them like before. Grian squirmed happily, wiggling his behind back into Zedaph’s hips until he could feel the man’s dick settle in between his cheeks.

A small keen left Grian’s lips. And then Zedaph was rocking against him once more, and Grian let himself go.

He was no longer overly stimulated - now, everything just felt _good._ Zedaph’s warm breath puffing over his neck, the firm grip around his wrists, the heavy body covering his own and the gentle thrusting against his ass. It felt warm, it felt safe, and Zedaph was in control so there was no way for Grian to do anything wrong, and he loved it.

It didn’t take long for Zedaph’s rhythm to falter, and a strained moan sounded against Grian’s skin as Zedaph pressed his face into the crook of Grian’s neck once more, teeth digging into the muscle there as he came.

Grian couldn’t really feel it, due to the layers of clothing between them, but the heat against his ass increased, and Zedaph was no longer moving, so it didn’t take too much for him to guess that Zedaph had found release of his own.

The two of them lied there, panting softly into the still air of the night.

“Sleep?” Grian whispered, not wanting to move despite how he knew that they by all means should at the very least change out of their soiled clothing first.

A hum sounded against his ear, and then Zedaph went boneless on top of him, settling against Grian’s body as Zedaph let himself relax.

Grian smiled, then. Soon Zedaph was making small, sleepy sounds, even a gentle snore every now and then. Grian let his eyes close, revelling in the warmth and feeling of security of having Zedaph so close—

And then he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song rec: All I Wanna Say - Lontalius


	2. Would you like to stay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know… I guess I’m worried that when I wake up, I’ll be back with them. That this has been too good to be true. That you guys, and this world, and the previous one, has all been a dream.”
> 
> Grian struggles. Scar helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: trauma, flashbacks, insomnia, cuddling, coping mechanisms, angst and fluff.
> 
> Mind the tags, stay safe, and have fun!

~ * ~

Grian was tired.

Of course he was - he was beyond tired, he was _exhausted—_

But he wasn’t sleepy. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, no matter how long it had been since he’d last slept, if he wasn’t feeling sleepy.

And it wasn’t _fine,_ but it had to be. It wouldn’t help to lie down and close his eyes - within minutes he’d be so restless that it felt like his skin was crawling, his blankets were too constricting. No position was comfortable, and the silence was too loud, and the pressure behind his eyes would grow and grow until it felt like he was going to _die—_

So no. It wasn’t fine. But Grian was okay. He was used to it, and he had kept working on his main base as the third night in a row fell where Grian hadn’t gotten any sleep.

The phantoms had been a pain. And Grian’s aim hadn’t exactly been the best, due to how much his vision was blurring with exhaustion, as well as the tremor that had been present in his hands ever since the second night.

Grian stood up on the roof of his diagonal mansion, and he was swaying slightly in place. He’d lost track of the last phantom - or was it two more? Maybe he had seen wrong. Grian squinted into the darkness as the stars blurred in and out of existence, when suddenly a force knocked into his left side.

He hadn’t even heard the phantom screeching over the faint ringing in his ears.

With a yell, Grian tumbled off of the smooth dark prismarine, and then he was falling. The rushing air was cold enough to bite, and Grian panicked.

_The fight against the dragon was nothing like he had imagined, back when he had been planning it with all his friends. His friends weren’t_ there, _he was all alone, and Grian was frightened. He let out a scream when another glowing ball of magic hit him square in the chest, and Grian was knocked up into the air, higher and higher and higher—_

_And then he was falling._

Grian lost his breath when something hit his chest with a tremendous force. For a moment, he didn’t even realise where he was, that he was not in the end, that he was no longer on Evo—

Then he heard Scar’s frantic voice, repeating his name over and over.

“Grian, Grian, Grian, Grian—”

And Grian realised that he was no longer falling. There were arms around him, gripping him tightly, and that the force that had hit his chest had been Scar colliding with him mid-air, catching him and preventing him from crashing into the ground.

He shuddered, and wrapped his arms around Scar in turn, clinging to the silk of his robes. Scar fired off another firework rocket, and the two of them sped away from Grian’s base and the swarm of phantoms that circled overhead, leaving the mansion behind in a cloud of sparks.

Grian kept his face pressed into the crook of Scar’s neck, eyes squeezed shut as he held on for dear life.

Soon, the rushing of air in his ears quieted down. The wind was no longer tugging at his clothes. Grian remained frozen, still clinging to Scar as he tried to stave off the inevitable panic and guilt.

“Grian?” Scar asked, before repeating his name a few more times like the man sometimes did when he was nervous or worked up. Grian felt a pit in his stomach when he realised it was his fault that Scar was upset. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Grian didn’t answer, he just tightened his grip even further into the fabric covering Scar’s back.

The two of them remained silent until they landed on the platform outside of Scar’s starter base. Grian still clung to Scar, and the taller man put away the fireworks he’d been using to propel the two of them through the air, before he huddle-walked the two of them past the entrance to the shell of Larry the snail.

“Grian?”

Grian shuddered, but he didn’t protest it when Scar started to gently pry his fingers away from the taller man before gently holding Grian’s numb hands in his own. Grian blinked, and Scar was searching his eyes with a concerned expression.

The smaller man parted his lips, and it took a few moments before he managed to find his voice. It felt like the connection from his brain to the rest of his body had become muddled, somehow, and when the words came, Grian was speaking slowly. “How did you know?”

Scar’s eyebrows furrowed. “How did I know? Know how to find you?”

Grian nodded.

“I was woken up by the screeches of the phantoms. I was already flying towards you when you fell - I thought you might need some help.”

“Oh,” Grian said. He felt slow, and dumb. “I’m sorry.”

Scar shook his head, “Sorry - no, don’t be. It’s okay. Why didn’t you go to sleep when you had so many of them after you?”

Grian hesitated, and Scar’s eyes grew even softer, the gentle green colour making Grian feel just that tiny bit warmer. “I,” he licked his lips. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, Grian,” Scar said, voice gentle. “Do you think you could at least try just resting for the night? If you can’t sleep, that’s fine, but I don’t want you to be out there alone when there’s this many phantoms after you.”

Grian tightened his hands around Scar’s. “With you? Could I stay?”

Scar blinked down at him, before a smile started spreading out on his face. “With me? Of course, Grian.”

Grian returned the smile, and although the expression felt unsteady on his face, it felt good to see Scar’s eyes light up at the action. Gently, Scar led the two of them up the ladder until they reached the bedroom. Scar sat down on the bed, and gently patted the spot next to him until Grian joined him.

“Why do you think you couldn’t sleep?”

Grian thought about it, but it was hard. His mind was working so slowly, and the bodily exhaustion left behind after the flashback he’d had when he was falling wasn’t helping. “I don’t know. All the things I usually try haven't been working, and I’m anxious all the time.”

“Do you know what you’re anxious about? Do you think something might happen while you’re asleep?”

Grian took a shuddering breath. “It’s not like I think it’s gonna happen - I know there’s no… watchers… on Hermitcraft.” Grian’s mind fought against the use of the word for the deities that had taken him after the fight with the dragon, that fateful day so long ago—

“I don’t know… I guess I’m worried that when I wake up, I’ll be back with them. That this has been too good to be true. That you guys, and this world, and the previous one, has all been a dream.”

Scar nodded slowly, and reached one arm out to wrap around Grian’s shoulder. “Too good to be true… Okay. And what do you normally do that works?”

“Um, I try to keep reminders that I’m _here,_ I guess? Like,” Grian thought for a moment, “Like keeping my bases cluttered. The… _they_ never allowed that, so it’s like an instant reminder. I like to sleep with clothes on, too. I can wear whatever I want, here.” Scar’s arm tightened around his shoulder. Grian exhaled. “And, I usually don’t show my wings. Those are the main things, I think.”

“Those are the main things? Well done,” Scar whispered. Grian deflated a bit, before sinking into Scar’s side. “Those things probably worked well short term, right?”

“They did,” Grian agreed.

“But,” Scar said, speaking slowly as he seemed to consider his words, “I think you might be unconsciously confirming to yourself, by taking these precautions, that you have a reason to be afraid of sleep.”

Grian froze.

Scar continued, “Does that make sense? You feel safe because you are taking steps to eliminate the threat, rather than working on accepting that there is no threat there, not anymore. You’re avoiding confronting your memories by making your brain think it’s still happening.”

“Oh,” Grian breathed. 

“Now,” Scar said, “I’m not telling you that you need to address all of these things at once - I’m not telling you to do _anything,_ but—”

Grian cut him off, speaking softly, “But maybe I could try confronting some of it? I couldn’t sleep anyway, but I feel safer when I’m with you, so it should be okay?” The last part was said like a question, and Grian tilted his head to face Scar, the uncertainty clear in his eyes.

Scar smiled down at him as he absentmindedly repeated Grian’s phrase, before answering. “I think that sounds like a very good idea. I think it’s gonna help you long term, you know?”

Grian nodded, “Yeah.” Then, “Maybe I could… Um, maybe I could try having my wings out? Or would that be—”

“No no, that’s perfect!” Scar interrupted him. His expression had lit up, and Scar’s hands were moving in excited patterns in front of him. Grian smiled at the clear display of happiness Scar was showing, and he hesitatingly met the man’s eyes again.

“Okay.”

Grian stood up from the bed, and Scar nodded before removing his robe, leaving him in his patterned boxers as the man made himself comfortable on the bed, eyes watching Grian with a gentle expression.

Grian took a deep breath as he pulled off his hoodie. The air was slightly cold, and he shivered as it met the bare skin of his upper body. Grian closed his eyes, and he felt the faint tingling in the air around him as he reached for his magic, sparks appearing behind his closed eyelids for just a moment—

With a sigh of relief, Grian let himself relax. The gentle shifting of feathers could be heard in the otherwise quiet room, and Grian blinked his eyes back open when he felt the wings settle against his back.

Scar’s eyes were big with fascination, and when he saw that Grian was looking at him, the man’s smile widened even more as he pulled the blankets aside in clear invitation. Grian tried not to pay attention to the white feathers he could see in his peripheral vision as he climbed back onto the bed, quickly joining Scar and, with only a moment of hesitation, Grian pressed himself close to Scar’s side.

Scar hummed and pulled Grian even closer, and the smaller man sighed contentedly as his face was pressed into the crook of Scar’s neck. Grian felt his wings spread out to gently cover the two of them - and he realised he’d forgotten how comfortable it was, huddling beneath the layer of soft feathers for warmth.

Scar cooed at him, and Grian shuddered. “Can I touch them?” The taller man asked, and Grian tried not to think about it too much before he nodded his consent.

The first touch of a warm palm to the sensitive feathers still spooked him, just a little. Grian made a small noise in the back of his throat - he couldn’t remember the last time another person had touched his wings. It felt so intense, the shifting limbs of muscle and bones and feathers feeling almost raw with how much Scar’s touch affected him.

“So soft,” Scar mused, and Grian squeaked when the taller man started carding his fingers gently through the feathers, carefully scratching at the skin underneath.

They settled into a relaxed pattern. Grian breathing steadily, trying not to flinch at the gentle ministrations that reminded him that his wings were out, that they were _there_ \- and Scar, humming quietly beneath his breath, carefully running his fingers through the soft feathered wings spreading out to cover them.

Scar’s hands slowly made their way across the span of one wing, passing by the strong joints and moving on to the finer feathers and eventually, the soft down feathers that were more prevalent the closer to the skin of Grian’s back Scar went.

Grian shuddered. The touch was… nice. A bit overwhelming, maybe. But it felt good. The skin beneath the down was so sensitive, and Grian didn’t think he’d ever had another person touch that area before. It felt so vulnerable. Intimate. But Grian trusted Scar with this, and the taller man cooed when Grian let out a small moan as he relaxed even further into Scar’s side.

“Does it feel nice?” Scar asked him.

Grian nodded, still hiding his face in the crook of Scar’s neck. His cheeks felt warm enough that Grian was pretty sure he was blushing, and he didn’t want Scar to notice in case the taller man decided to stop.

“Good. Your wings are very soft! I like them,” Scar said, and Grian could hear the smile on his voice.

“‘m glad,” Grian murmured, going a bit boneless. The feeling of skin against his own was pleasant, and Scar was warm and soft.

Grian might not have fallen asleep that night, but he was more relaxed in the morning than he could remember being in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stuff Scar told Grian are all actual things that one learns in trauma therapy /o/
> 
> Song rec: Feelings - Lauv


	3. Cause I bit my lip until it bled (but I kinda wish that I'd bit yours instead)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you give them control? Or did they take it?”
> 
> “They took it,” Grian replied, feeling a bit short of breath as his mind continued spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea has refused to leave me alone, and so it hath been written. A delve into kinks and trauma, a lesson in power, control, and trust.
> 
> Chapter warnings: trauma, light BDSM, power dynamics, safewords, slightly rough sex, subspace.

~ * ~

“Hey, Grian?”

Grian raised his head from Doc’s chest at the sound of the taller man’s voice, meeting his eyes with an easy smile. “Yes, Doc?”

Doc seemed calm, but the look in his eyes told Grian that the man was thinking about something. He didn’t have to wait long to find out what was on the taller man’s mind.

“Would you ever consider trying out BDSM with me?”

Grian’s breath caught in his chest. His body went cold, and there was a pit growing in his stomach. “W-why do you ask? Do you want that?”

“Well,” Doc replied, one hand smoothing down Grian’s side, gaze wandering away from the smaller man lying against his chest. “I have been thinking about it, that’s for sure. It’s something I’ve enjoyed immensely in the past, and I would love to make you feel good like that.”

Grian felt his body start trembling with nervous energy. He was sure Doc noticed as well, due to how Grian was lying practically on top of him. “I,” he licked his suddenly dry lips, avoiding Doc’s gaze. “I-I don’t… I’m not sure, that is - I’ve never—”

“Hey,” Doc said, voice kind and soothing. The hand on Grian’s side moved to comb through his hair, and Grian sighed and let his forehead drop to rest against Doc’s chest once more, letting the taller man’s dark voice rumble through him. “It’s okay. We don’t have to, and I’m happy with the way things are now. I was just wondering.”

Slowly, Grian felt his body relaxing. The nervousness was still there, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming as it had. He felt more confident, and so he asked, “I… Tell me more about it?”

Grian could feel the way Doc took a shuddering inhale, and he realised the other man had been more nervous about bringing this up than he’d let on. Grian squeezed him just that tiny bit tighter between his arms as he waited for Doc to explain.

“I would like for you to give up control—” Grian’s stomach dropped to somewhere around bedrock level, but before he could wrench himself away from Doc’s body, the other man continued, “—on a superficial level. You’d still be able to stop the scene at any time, and we’d have decided everything beforehand. I would not ask you to do anything you hadn’t already agreed upon. I want to make you feel good that way, by you allowing me to make decisions for as long as the scene lasts.”

Grian breathed. That didn’t sound as bad as he’d first thought. Doc continued.

“That’s the main gist of it… but we could add more things if you’re interested. I could praise you, or degrade you. Make you come, or deny you. I could tie parts of you up, or blindfold you, or hold you down with my own body. I could do things that make you feel pain, or keep it purely pleasurable,” Doc slowly listed, and Grian could hear the man’s heartbeat picking up speed from where Grian’s ear was pressed to Doc’s chest. “There’s lots of options, in the long term at least.”

“And in the short term?” Grian surprised himself by whispering.

Doc gave a considering hum, the sound of it deep and pleasant against Grian’s ear. Doc’s hand was trailing through the hair at the nape of Grian’s neck, and despite the slightly uncomfortable conversation, Grian found himself relaxing more and more.

“I think, for a first time scene,” Doc said, speaking slowly as he thought out loud, before he added, “...unless you have any wishes?”

Grian shook his head ‘no’.

Doc continued, seemingly unphased by Grian’s answer, “Then I think you handing over control would be the main part. Asking for permission to touch, to come, those kinds of things. I could accept or deny you, depending on if I think you’re behaving or misbehaving. What ‘behaving’ entails would be something we’d agree upon beforehand.”

Grian swallowed. “If,” he said, speaking quietly, “we were to do this… could you also, maybe, hold me d-down? Just to try it?”

A gentle kiss was pressed to the top of Grian’s head, and he sighed at the comforting touch.

“Of course, Grian. I’d be happy to - and if you find out you don’t like it, you could just say a safeword we decide on beforehand, and I’d stop right away.”

“What else do I need to know?” Grian mumbled, feeling embarrassed and nervous despite the fact that they were just talking.

Doc pressed another kiss to his hair, and Grian shuddered. “The scene ends either at a time we decide before we begin, or if one of us safewords. After that, it’s time for aftercare. It can be quite emotional for both parties, so depending on the scene and the people involved, taking care of any physical as well as emotional needs is very important. Cuddling, reassurance, talking about the scene and what we liked and what we didn’t like, things like that.”

That… didn’t sound too bad. If Grian was honest with himself, it didn’t sound bad at all - just scary. Doc interrupted his musings by speaking once more.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?”

Grian cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to explain what he was feeling. “I’m not against it… But I am scared. The last time someone else was in control over what I did, it was scary, too. And I didn’t like what they made me do, or what they did to me.”

Doc murmured, “The watchers?”

Grian shuddered at hearing the word, even when Doc spoke it so carefully that it was barely audible. He nodded, forehead dragging against Doc’s chest as he did.

“Did you give them control? Or did they take it?”

His head spun at the question. If someone had asked Grian that when he’d first joined the hermits, he’d have replied by asking if there truly was a difference between the two. The realisation that he knew that the two were not one and the same, now, came as a revelation to him. He’d come further than he’d realised.

“They took it,” Grian replied, feeling a bit short of breath as his mind continued spinning.

Doc’s prosthetic arm tightened around his back. “Then those two are not the same. I would only ask for however much control you’d be willing to give me, and it’d be within your reach at all times. If you say the word, or give me the signal, I’d hand it back to you in a heartbeat.”

Grian felt his heart give a sharp squeeze in his chest.

He found that he believed Doc’s words. He trusted him.

Grian still couldn’t help but ask, despite feeling almost childish as he did so, “You promise?”

Another kiss was pressed to the top of his head. “I promise, Grian.”

Grian closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, feeling the air settle deep within his chest as his ribs expanded at the action - and then he took a leap of faith.

“I wanna try.”

  
  
  


It took a few more days of preparation and planning before they decided to try a scene together. Like Doc had said, it would be relatively tame, but because of Grian’s nerves, they went over the general plan for it several times, letting the smaller man grow used to the idea of it, of handing over control. He knew what to expect, and though Grian didn’t feel quite  _ confident  _ going into it, he could at least say that he wasn’t terrified.

“Tell me the safeword?” Doc whispered against his ear. The air moved hotly against Grian’s skin, and he shivered as he felt goosebumps rise in the chill left behind.

“Sahara,” Grian replied. He already sounded breathless, and he let himself be comforted by the feeling of Doc’s arms around him, steadying him, warm and tight. They squeezed for a moment - and then they were gone.

Grian exhaled sharply as Doc took a step away from him. He looked up to meet the taller man’s eyes, and he watched as Doc slowly backed away until he could sit down at the edge of the bed.

He started to follow, but then Doc opened his mouth.

“Don’t move.”

Grian froze. He felt a tremble settle into his bones, and his hands clenched into fists at his side.

Doc hummed pleasedly, and Grian felt his heartbeat pick up speed at the sound. “Good. Take off your clothes for me.”

Grian let his eyes slip shut as he considered the command, even as his hands raised to the hem of his sweater. It felt… strange, being told what to do like this. He knew he didn’t  _ have  _ to obey. There would be no consequences if he didn’t, that he could say the safeword at any time and it would stop.

He pulled his sweater off over his head, discarding it to the side.

His hands went to the hem of his jeans, but before he continued undressing, he looked up to meet Doc’s eyes once more. Doc nodded at him, encouragingly - and Grian felt heat bloom somewhere in his chest.

Grian unbuttoned his pants and let them drop to the floor. He kicked off his shoes and socks, and finally he shoved his boxers down. Then, he took a step to the side, and Grian was completely naked while Doc was watching his every move, still fully clothed and seated on the bed. He waited for Doc to speak up, feeling nervous energy bubbling up inside him the longer the silence stretched on—

“Very good. You’re being so sweet for me, Grian, so obedient. I’m proud of you.”

A moan left Grian’s lips, taking the both of them by surprise. Grian’s eyes widened as he raised his hands to cover his own mouth. His face felt warm. His legs were feeling a bit unsteady, the knowledge that what he was doing was pleasing Doc somehow so intense that it made him weak in the knees.

Doc managed to school his surprised expression back into a carefully blank look before Grian did. “Don’t cover your mouth, sweet thing - let me hear you.”

Grian almost wanted to protest, then, to refuse… but then he was once again reminded of how good it had felt when Doc told him he was doing good, that he was making Doc happy and pleased. Maybe this would feel the same?

He slowly let his hands fall away from where they’d been covering his mouth, and Doc let out a deep rumble.  _ “Good,  _ very good.”

Another small sound burst from Grian’s lips, and this time he dug his fingers into his own thighs to stop himself from trying to cover the embarrassing noise. His heart was pounding in his chest, the sound of it pulsing behind his eardrums.

“Come here,” Doc said.

Grian didn’t hesitate to follow the command, his feet carrying him until he was toe to toe with the taller man that was still sitting at the edge of the bed.

Doc looked up at him with a heated expression, eyes slowly trailing up Grian’s naked body until their gazes met. Grian trembled, and he felt strangely vulnerable, high-strung - like his nerves were exposed, on the outside of his body, like Doc was able to see exactly where and how to treat and touch him, what to say in order to make Grian fall apart.

Grian didn’t think he would mind it.

“Get down on your knees for me.”

Doc parted his thighs, making room for Grian to kneel down between them. Grian found himself breathing shallowly as he lowered himself down to his knees, thighs trembling with how unsteady he felt. His knees hit the floor a bit heavier than he’d expected, and Grian flinched - but other than the initial first ache, it didn’t hurt. His hands fluttered in the air, hesitatingly, before Grian let them settle in his own lap.

Slowly, he gazed up to meet Doc’s eyes once more.

Doc’s eyes on him were intense. It was almost like Grian could  _ feel  _ the weight of the gaze on his skin - a shiver worked its way down his spine as he sat before the other man, waiting for the next command that he  _ knew  _ was coming—

“Take me out of my pants. I want your hands and mouth on me, sweet thing.”

Grian’s breath escaped him in a gust of air, but through the initial rush of oxygen leaving him before he could take another breath, Grian managed to lift his hands towards the hem of Doc’s trousers.

He unbuttoned the pants with slightly numb fingers. Grian flinched at the sound of the zipper when he undid it - it seemed so loud in the otherwise quiet room. He looked back up at Doc, but Doc didn’t comment on it, so Grian averted his gaze, and went back to working the man’s trousers off. 

He started tugging Doc’s pants down. It went easier once Doc raised his hips, allowing Grian to slip the garment down to rest around the man’s thighs. Grian’s heartbeat was picking up speed when his fingers hooked around the hem of Doc’s underwear, despite how he knew that the sight of Doc naked was nothing new to him - he’d sucked Doc off before. But, somehow, the knowledge that Doc was calling the shots, here, and that Grian was  _ allowing  _ him to—

It just felt  _ different. _

The fabric was tugged out of the way, and Doc’s erection sprung free, bobbing up into the air in front of Grian’s face. He felt his face grow warm when he realised how hard the other man already was, despite how nothing had happened yet, not really - and Grian hesitated, unconsciously waiting for another command before Doc’s hand settled on his head, long fingers tangling in his hair and gently tugging, reminding Grian that Doc had already told him what to do.

He raised one hand up to wrap around the dick in front of him, slowly tightening his grip to the sound of Doc exhaling shakily above him. He stroked the full length, once, twice - and a droplet of precome was already glistening at the tip.

Grian watched the moisture that had settled there, looking almost like a pearl, decorating the tip. He felt breathless all of a sudden, knowing that just this - allowing Doc to tell him what to do, despite how they weren’t really doing anything that different from what they might have done anyway - was enough to make Doc react as strongly as he did.

As he kept stroking Doc’s length slowly, his eyes never strayed from the droplet gathered at the tip, trembling with every movement of his hand.

When Grian leaned in to lick the moisture away, he didn’t have to think about it - the instinct came so naturally to him that for a moment he forgot about the scene altogether. He wrapped his lips around the head of Doc’s cock, wanting to coax more of the salty fluid out of him—

The grip in his hair tightened, and Grian gasped softly when Doc pulled him away until only Grian’s hands remained on the taller man’s dick.

“Doc, what—”

When Doc replied, his voice was firm but calm. It brought Grian back into the moment, into the scene. “I’ll tell you when you’re allowed to suck my cock. For now, I want you to kiss and lick until you’ve earned your reward, sweet thing.”

Grian whined - and the action surprised him. He  _ knew  _ of the plan, of the progression the two of them had agreed upon beforehand… but, for some reason, he found himself wanting to push the limit a bit further. He wanted to prod, and irritate, and  _ misbehave  _ \- he wanted, no,  _ needed  _ to know Doc’s reaction, how he would use the power Grian had handed over to him—

He tried to move his head back in, trying to get his mouth back on the taller man’s dick - but, unsurprisingly, the grip in his hair stayed firm. The movement tugged sharply, and though it was of no one’s fault but his own, Grian found himself whining even louder than before.

“Please, Doc? I wanna taste you. I’m okay, I want it - just please, let me—”

“No.” Doc’s voice was firm. Final.

Grian’s eyes widened. It felt like a pit had opened in his stomach, his breath escaping him in a wheeze - and perhaps, most surprisingly of all, Grian’s dick throbbed between his legs, and he felt himself releasing a spurt of precome of his own. He went absolutely still beneath Doc’s hand. He waited, barely breathing, for Doc to tell him what to do. It was humiliating. It felt exhilarating. Exciting. Shameful.  _ Hot. _

Doc’s voice was a gentle murmur when he next spoke, and Grian was hanging on to every word that left the taller man’s lips. “Is this okay? You remember the safeword?”

Grian nodded weakly. He didn’t speak. He was waiting.

Doc’s voice dropped back into the deep rumble that trembled down Grian’s spine, raising goosebumps in its wake.

“You will take whatever I give you  _ when  _ I choose to give it to you, and you will be grateful. Greed will not get you far. Do you trust me to give you what you need?”

Grian’s eyes slipped shut. He moaned softly, before nodding. Doc’s grip in his hair remained firm, and the slight sting in his scalp at the jerking movement of his head felt oddly grounding.

“Good boy.”

The floor swept away underneath him again, but this time the pit did not leave him feeling cold. No, this time, Grian felt like flames were licking at his skin, like lava was replacing his bone marrow and lighting up every nerve ending, just for a moment. He moaned breathlessly as the weight and meaning of Doc’s compliment flooded his brain and body, taking him over and leaving him breathless.

His dick was leaking steadily, now. His gut felt tight with tension, and Grian panted as he resisted the urge to wrap a hand around himself.

He wanted to be good. The realisation bore with it a sense of calm, of being grounded. Somehow, it felt right. Doc was laying the rules out plainly - all Grian had to do was follow them. No way for him to do the wrong thing, or to mess up. So long as Doc was in control, Grian very pointedly didn’t have to be.

When power had been taken from him before, it had been used against him. When he gave Doc power freely, the other man used it to please them both. Grian sat in silence, eyes closed, as it felt like the world was shifting, just a bit, within him.

His breath came a little easier.

Slowly, Grian opened his eyes. Doc was watching him steadily, and Grian felt his heart give a tug in his chest at how patient the other man was being. Grian nodded, once.

The grip on his hair went slack, though the hand remained on his head. Grian was once again free to move.

Grian started moving his hand, slowly stroking Doc up and down. Then, he leaned in. He didn’t go straight for the tip this time, keeping Doc’s words in mind, and so Grian bypassed it. Instead, Grian let his head tilt sideways, until he could start mouthing at the shaft of Doc’s cock.

Doc inhaled shakily above him as Grian started pressing open-mouthed kisses along the length of him, the rhythm of his hand stuttering slightly as he kept stroking.

He parted his lips, and gently sucked some of the skin into his mouth, letting his tongue drag over the heated flesh with a small moan.

Grian felt the cock twitch against his lips as Doc’s hips stuttered, and the loud groan that reverberated through the taller man’s body made pleasant shivers work their way down Grian’s spine. He kept moving, releasing the skin he’d been sucking on, only to press more kisses and licks along the shaft he was stroking.

Doc’s breathing had turned into heavy gulps of air, and Grian could feel the way the taller man’s exhales were making his hair shift.

Grian realised that he didn’t feel powerless. No, not at all - it was  _ him  _ making Doc feel as good as he did, and it was  _ Grian  _ that had reduced the bigger man into panting groans and stuttering movements.

Excitement bubbled up within him, a giddy, almost nervous sort of feeling that made the heat coiling up in his belly tug sharply against his spine. Gods, but he wanted to move. Grian needed to do something, but he wanted to be good, too.

Slowly, Grian kissed his way down the length of Doc’s erection. His hand was focusing mostly on the head, now, and Doc seemed to appreciate it - moans and pleased rumbles escaping the other man as the hand in Grian’s hair gently carded through the locks that were starting to stick together with moisture as Grian’s internal temperature kept climbing, causing him to break out into a sweat.

He kept nosing the soft, heated skin in front of him until his lips just barely touched Doc’s balls. Grian heard Doc gasp softly above him—

Grian parted his lips, and started gently sucking on the skin there, just the same as he’d done to the other man’s dick. The effect on Doc was immediate. The hand in his hair tightened, not moving him - just holding him still, keeping his mouth where it was. The heat of Grian’s erection was becoming impossible to ignore, the weight of it heavy and throbbing between his legs as Doc moaned loudly above him.

“G-gods, sweet thing, that’s perfect. G-good boy,” Doc panted out, and Grian  _ ached. _

He made a small, happy sound in the back of his throat, before licking a broad stripe over the other man’s balls before returning to gently sucking on the skin there. Doc’s hips  _ bucked  _ up against his face.

A low groan sounded from the other man. “Okay, I think that’s enough. You may suck my cock, now.”

Grian perked up, and the spit-slick skin he’d been sucking on fell from his mouth with a wet ‘pop’. He sat back on his heels, hand already moving down Doc’s shaft to hold him steady around the base—

The hand in his hair stopped him before he could lean in to take the cock into his mouth. Grian gasped at the small tug at his hair, hand stilling as he looked back up to meet Doc’s eyes - and,  _ oh,  _ Doc looked a mess.

His cheeks were flushed, and his lips were parted from how heavy he was breathing. Grian could see the indent of teeth marks adorning the plump flesh that Grian had spent quite a lot of time getting acquainted with in the past - and Grian’s own dick throbbed when he realised that he wouldn’t mind getting a few of those bite marks of his own. The mental image of Doc’s sharp teeth sinking into the skin of his neck, his pecs, his lips, his—

“I am offering you a gift, sweet thing. Don’t be ungrateful, now. What do we say when someone gives us a present?”

Grian  _ clenched.  _ A dry sob broke free from his chest, escaping his throat without his consent as he felt the heat inside him  _ surge,  _ precome actually dripping to the floor and his muscles trying to clamp down on something that wasn’t  _ there— _

He was so  _ empty— _

Doc’s eyes were expectant, but warm. Grian tried to focus on that, on the love he could see in the other man’s gaze. Grian was fighting more against his own body than with his fear and uncertainty at this point, his very skin seeming to scream at him in need of touch, of stimulation. He kept looking into Doc’s eyes while taking slow breaths, gathering himself a bit in the moment of reprieve being offered to him.

Grian inhaled slowly. Then, he gave Doc the reply he wanted. “Thank you.”

“See, there’s a good boy. Polite and well behaved. Good boys get rewarded, sweet thing. Especially needy, pliant ones like yourself.” The hand in his hair was  _ petting  _ him, now. It made him feel… small.

Doc’s eyes were so warm. “Go ahead.”

Like a dam had broken, Grian surged forward with a desperation that both surprised him and yet, at the same time,  _ didn’t. _

His grip around the other man’s shaft tightened as he held Doc’s cock up in front of his mouth - and he didn’t waste any more time than that, pressing his tongue down as he took Doc in as deep as he was able to in one go.

The head bumped against the back of his mouth - and Grian choked.

Grian pulled back, breathing harshly, and then kept going. He didn’t know where the sudden desperation had come from, nor the desire - no, the  _ need  _ \- to feel Doc in his throat, but the ‘where’ didn’t really matter to him in that moment. He just  _ did. _

He pressed forwards until the head of Doc’s cock was sliding over the back of his tongue, and then he slowed down - but he didn’t actually stop. Doc was moaning loudly above him, thighs trembling on either side of Grian’s head as the taller man tried to keep his hips from moving around too much.

Once the head of Doc’s erection was bumping against the back of his throat, diaphragm spasming as Grian fought down the urge to gag, he pressed his tongue up against the wide flesh in his mouth, giving himself a moment before moving on.

Doc’s hips  _ did  _ twitch up against him when Grian’s tongue pressed up against one of the more prominent veins, hard enough that he could feel Doc’s pulse fluttering against his tongue. His eyes were watering from the small thrust that made the taller man’s dick curve slightly, trying to bend in order to make room for itself down his throat - but Grian didn’t pull away.

He forced himself to remain where he was, pliant and open, and once his breath was no longer quite as heaving, Grian tilted his head forwards as he pressed even closer to the taller man, tongue shoving the dick in his mouth up, closer to his palate—

As he closed off the back of his mouth with his tongue and Doc’s erection, Grian did a movement that mimicked a gasp - except, with his sealed-off mouth, the action allowed him to open up his throat enough to suck Doc  _ in,  _ letting the taller man’s dick slip down his throat and into the snug warmth there.

Doc froze above him.

Then, a loud moan filled the room, and Grian felt his heartbeat flutter against his ribs.

Doc wasn’t moving, and Grian couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment in that. He pressed forwards until his throat stung and his nose was brushing against the dark curls of hair above Doc’s cock, Grian’s hand falling away to once again rest in his own lap as the heat in his mouth and between his legs seemed to throb in tandem, and still, nothing but sounds fell through the other man’s defenses.

Grian’s eyebrows pinched into a frown, and he pulled back until the erection slipped from between his lips.

“You can move me if you’d like. I want you to.”

Before Doc had the chance to reply, Grian was once again taking the other man’s dick into his mouth, bobbing gently back and forth until the head was nudging the back of his throat again.

Doc’s hand tightened in his hair, and Grian’s heart started pounding almost frantically in his chest.

The other man didn’t move him at first, simply holding him still by the hair as Grian squirmed between his legs. “Hand on my thigh, sweet thing. I want you to pinch me or tap me if you want me to stop, or if you need a break.”

Grian nodded as best as he could around the dick in his mouth and the hand fisted in his hair. He raised one hand before letting it rest on Doc’s thigh.

“If your hand leaves me, I stop. You got that?”

Grian moaned weakly, the sound coming out muffled around his mouthful. He nodded again, feeling a bit of drool escape from the corner of his mouth.

Doc hummed, and the raspy quality to his voice made Grian feel light headed. “Take a deep breath.”

He did. Grian didn’t even need to think about it, he just followed the command, finely tuned in to the gravelly voice of the man above him.

Then Doc was pulling at his hair.

Grian let the other man move him, and the cock in his mouth was pressing insistently at the back of his throat. He gagged weakly, but still didn’t fight against the hold on him. Grian clenched down, tongue pressing hard against the heated flesh, neck tilting - and then Doc was back in his throat.

“S-so tight, fuck—”

Doc pulled him back. He hadn’t drawn Grian in close enough for him to bottom out, and Grian was grateful. His throat was still fluttering, and he gasped wetly, just before Doc pulled him in again - the press down his throat going a bit easier, now.

The other man repeated the movement. Again. And again.

Grian’s throat was still giving that slight bit of resistance, just before giving in to Doc’s insistent motions, and the smaller man couldn’t help but to feel white-hot flashes of shame-filled  _ heat  _ burst through him at the knowledge that he was  _ letting  _ Doc use him this way, that he’d  _ asked  _ for it and that he was  _ enjoying  _ it. Not the act itself, necessarily, but the idea and notion of it. Of giving Doc everything. Of letting the taller man  _ have  _ him.

Grian burned.

He lost himself a bit there, in the motion and feeling of Doc’s hand in his hair, directing him. The slight tug against his scalp. The ever-growing soreness in his throat, the ache in his jaw and the back of his tongue. The slight lightheadedness that came with interrupted breathing. The way his own dick was so hard that Grian had started to lose feeling in his legs, the limbs feeling tingly and oddly distant as his focus was drawn elsewhere.

Tug. Wince.  _ Relief.  _ Burn. Arousal. Tug. Breath. Repeat.

At some point, Grian simply let his mouth relax, feeling himself go a bit boneless in Doc’s grip on his hair as he surrendered fully to the other man’s guiding motions.

His eyes were struggling to focus. Grian could  _ feel  _ them glazing over. Small, soft sounds were all but pulled from him whenever his throat was free for him to do so, and the heat in his body felt so  _ good. _

Grian slowly became aware that Doc’s rhythm was stuttering. He could feel the muscles of Doc’s thigh tensing up beneath his hand as a particularly loud moan spilled from the man above him.

“Grian, I—” Another thrust, and Doc’s words got cut off by a groan so deep it made Grian’s toes curl, “—I’m going to come. Do you want me to pull out? Pinch me if you do.”

His hand remained as it was. Grian had always preferred the feeling of come in his mouth rather than it sticking to his skin, and right now, all he wanted was for Doc to spill down his throat. He wanted Doc to  _ have  _ him.

The hand in his hair tightened even further, and Grian felt his diaphragm twitch on the instinct to sob at the ache in his scalp, added to everything else.

“G-good boy. You’re making me feel so good, sweet thing. You’re perfect,  _ f-fuck—” _

Doc’s hips pushed up at the same time as Doc’s hand drew him in. Grian felt the cock pulsating gently against his tongue, and a strange, warm feeling in his upper chest soon followed.

Doc was coming down his throat. So deeply that Grian couldn’t even taste it, couldn’t even accurately  _ tell,  _ and for some reason the thought of it was so incomprehensible and devastating that it made him feel almost worshipful for a moment. By the time Doc pulled out, Grian was already hiccupping around a whine, a hoarse moan, and the taller man released his hair, only for those warm hands to wrap around his back and hoist him up until Grian was straddling Doc’s lap.

He was trembling. Doc’s hands were warm, so, so warm on his skin, and Grian hadn’t even realised how cold he’d been getting until there was something to contrast it.

A sound that was something between a moan and a sob burst from his lips, and then Doc’s voice was in his ear.

“Sweet thing, pretty boy. So beautiful, so good for me, always, always so good. You’re perfect, Grian. You did so well. You were amazing. How do you feel? Do you want me to touch you?”

And suddenly, the hands on him was less of a comfort and more a source of frustration. The warmth around his back was nice, sure, but Grian  _ needed— _

“Please,” he breathed, so softly that he wasn’t sure Doc would even be able to hear it. He was so hard, and he was still untouched—

A gentle kiss was pressed to the shell of his ear.

“Of course. You’ve earned it.”

The hands were stroking down his back, and Grian was already arching into it, chest pressing sharply against Doc’s still clothed one. The rough texture of the man’s coat against his nipples was enough to pull a sharp cry from him, every touch feeling like so much more than Grian thought it strictly should.

One of Doc’s hands started kneading at his ass, spreading him open and encouraging him to grind his dick against the taller man’s stomach. Grian did so with a gasp, his own hands settling on Doc’s shoulders as his body seemed to move on its own, hips rolling clumsily on the other man’s lap. Doc’s  _ other  _ hand, however—

Grian’s head snapped back, exposing his throat with a silent cry when he felt cold, prosthetic fingers dragging over his hole.

It made his muscles contract, his hole clenching and unclenching at the tease of it, the way Grian’s nerves were  _ singing.  _ Doc was playing his body’s responses like he was some sort of fine-tuned instrument, and Grian was helpless to do anything but react.

Doc’s cold fingers were rubbing small, tight circles over his hole, sometimes applying pressure like he was about to let his fingers dip  _ in,  _ still dry, and though he never did, it was enough to make Grian buck against the other man’s body, waves of heat and pleasure compelling him to  _ move. _

“You sing so beautifully for me, sweet thing,” Doc murmured in his ear. Grian trembled, eyes closed as he felt the tickle-scratch of Doc’s stubble dragging against his skin. When had the other man leaned in?

“Let me make you come undone.”

And then, the smooth, cold metal of one finger  _ did  _ press in. The lack of lube made Grian’s body seize at the way the friction grew hot enough to make it feel positively scalding, and yet any potential pain was flooded by the way the touch made Grian buck away from the finger, instinctually, which only made him grind his dick harder against Doc’s abdomen—

Grian was crying out, and the sound of his own voice was ringing in his ears—

His muscles were clamping down on Doc’s finger, and then the man pressed in even  _ deeper  _ \- and Grian was gone.

It felt like he’d been  _ forced  _ over the edge, the pleasure peaking as an orgasm was all but punched out of him. Grian’s body was spasming on Doc’s lap, the heat swallowing him in waves. His dick  _ hurt  _ as it spilled over Doc’s stomach. His body felt like it was sizzling, overcharged and unfeeling to anything but the pulses of bliss that was slowly bringing him back down, down, until he finally went still, Grian’s mind settling back in his still twitching body as he went limp on Doc’s lap.

Doc’s finger drew out, and Grian’s breath hitched. His head fell to rest against Doc’s broad shoulder, and when Doc returned to simply rubbing small circles over his still-twitching hole, Grian moaned weakly at the faint aftershocks of his orgasm as Doc made them drag out a bit longer.

He felt like he’d been scraped raw. He was hollow, weightless. Grian breathed. His body didn’t feel quite real.

There were lips pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Grian? Are you with me, sweet thing?”

Grian made a small sound, before finding his voice. “Y-yeah.” The word sounded breathy and small to his own ears, but Doc simply hummed, his organic hand beginning to drag soothingly warm circles over his back. Grian shuddered, and sank further into the other man’s embrace.

“How are you feeling?”

He felt… floaty. Loopy. He didn’t quite know how to articulate it. In the end, Grian settled with, “Weird. Tingly.”

Doc kept rubbing his back. “Good weird, or bad weird?”

“Good,” Grian replied, voice still weak, but this, at least, he was sure of. “Definitely good.”

Another kiss was pressed to the top of his head. “I’m glad. If you want, we can bask in this feeling for some time longer, until you feel ready to talk about the scene and do some debriefing and aftercare. How does that sound?”

Grian let his eyes slip shut, dragging his forehead over Doc’s shoulder as he burrowed further into the other man’s warmth. The hands on him tightened in response, and the gentle vibrations of a hum made their way from Doc’s chest, faintly trembling through Grian’s sternum at the proximity. 

“I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song rec: Comfortable - Lontalius


	4. Sleep through your alarms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days Grian’s past was just that - it was in the past. He’d left it behind, the heavy weight of it no longer trailing after him or keeping him down.
> 
> But some days… some days were the bad ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll warn y'all right now that this chapter is definitely on the heavier side emotionally. Bad headspaces all around - but there is also a showcase of the strength to reach out, of how and why to ask for help. I promise it's not all bad, y'all - but please take care of yourselves.
> 
> Tw: self deprecative thoughts, trauma, self hate, anxiety mention, coping mechanisms, bad mental health days, harmful stimming leading to accidental self harm through negligence, positive stimming, sensory overload, self care, ambiguous relationship, platonic cuddling.
> 
> Mind the tags, stay safe, and have fun.

~ * ~

Some days Grian’s past was just that - it was in the past. He’d left it behind, the heavy weight of it no longer trailing after him or keeping him down.

Most days weren’t quite that easy, but Grian still appreciated the ones that were. Most days were more varied, with ups and downs and frequently being thrown back into a bad memory because of a thoughtless comment, a spark of self doubt, or something reminding him of his time with the watchers. Grian would be shaken for a few hours, and then he’d move on with his day.

But some days… some days were the _bad_ ones.

Grian groaned as he turned over in his bed. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, and his body was heavy. Slow, clumsy. He blinked his eyes open, fighting against the drowsiness he could feel pulling at his eyelids, weighing them down and tempting him to roll back over and let sleep claim him once again—

The headache made itself known as soon as the room around him came into view. Grian sighed, and quietly wondered to himself when he’d fallen asleep. The last thing he could remember was that it was early morning. He’d been relaxing in bed after a sleepless night - because even when he hadn’t been able to fall asleep, it honestly helped to even get some rest, just like Scar had said.

He’d been messaging some of the other hermits that had woken up early - and that’s where Grian’s memory failed him, so he guessed he’d fallen asleep mid-conversation. Judging by the light filtering in through the windows of his base, it was late afternoon now. How was he still so tired?

Slowly, Grian sat up and got out of bed. His knees felt wobbly, and he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders before going to fix himself something to drink. Tea would be his usual, but he felt tired enough to go for coffee.

Two cups later and he still wasn’t feeling any more awake.

Grian tiredly rubbed at his eyes - they felt gritty, and dry with how hard it was to keep them open. He whined pitifully as he started kneading the skin of his forehead, trying to ease the throbbing left behind by his aching head. He could feel his skin protesting as his movements became rougher, but the pressure felt too comforting for Grian to care.

He sank down to the floor near his storage system, and curled up in the blanket still wrapped around him. He fell back asleep with both fists pressing into his temples.

  
  
  


When he came to again, it was evening.

Grian teared up when he realised the headache was still there, and his body felt just as fatigued and weak as it had done before his nap, and he slowly got back onto his legs, stumbling clumsily over to one of the chests of his storage to grab something to eat.

His stomach was churning, a nervous energy thrumming around inside him making him feel anxious and slightly nauseated, but he _knew_ he had to eat.

Some slices of bread would have to do. Grian didn’t think he could stomach anything else. He barely tasted it as he ate, and each bite landed heavily in his stomach. The uneasy feeling only got worse.

The communicator pinged from the chest by his bed.

Grian didn’t have the energy to get to it. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have had any left to actually open it, then read the message, and then reply - if he pretended like he hadn’t heard it, he could avoid the guilt for a bit longer.

And boy, did Grian feel guilty.

Not just because of the unread message - but because of _all_ of it.

Because of today. How he’d thought he was getting better, needed less help, and yet here he was, barely able to leave his bed without crying or collapsing back to the ground. About how there was nothing physically wrong with him to justify how exhausted he was. For the fact that he felt so _useless,_ so mind-bogglingly _lonely—_

But Grian wasn’t selfish enough to subject another hermit to his own uselessness. They shouldn’t need to take care of him - they all had more than enough on their plates. Grian would survive. He didn’t deserve special treatment, after all.

(Logically, he knew that any of them would have been happy to help - that they wouldn’t think of him as a burden if he asked them to talk to him, or to even keep him company for a few hours. He couldn’t _feel_ that it was true though, and Grian was too tired to pay attention to the logical side of things.)

More tears prickled at his closed eyelids - when had he closed them? - and he blinked them away. Grian noticed he’d been rocking back and forth between his heels and the balls of his feet, and he didn’t care to stop. He was too tired to pretend like the motion didn’t soothe him.

A nervousness was thrumming around in his body, but Grian couldn’t find a way to get it out. Not with how tired he was, with how impossible everything seemed. Despite himself, he started tearing up again. The feeling of hopelessness was overly dramatic, he knew, and unproductive to boot - but he still felt it.

He knew he needed help.

A dry sob burst from his mouth, and Grian slumped in on himself like the strings keeping him up had been cut.

His communicator was still by his bed, but Grian stumbled back to it, despite how his own thoughts were fighting against every movement he was making.

The smooth plastic was cold in his hand. His eyes were blurry enough that it was hard to pick out any details on the screen when it lit up, his head pounding painfully at the brightness. Grian whined, but he kept blinking at the screen until some of the fogginess went away. The cursor was blinking at him.

His thoughts were shouting at him, now. What did he think he was doing? If he admitted to needing help, that meant he was as weak and pathetic as his mind was trying to convince him of. The hermits wouldn’t believe him. They’d find him as pathetic as he was, for failing at something so basic as _living._ Why should he burden them with how big of a fuck-up he was?

His vision was blurring again. Warmth was pooling in his eyes, running down his cheeks. He felt… hollow.

Grian took a shuddering breath - and he started typing.

By the time the message was sent, his head hung limply from his shoulders as he dragged his feet heavily, slowly, as if he was wading through water, like his body was made of bedrock - impossible to move, and yet, somehow, he found a way - and after minutes or hours of heavy movements, of stubbornly trudging on ahead without looking at where he was going, Grian came to face the wall near the entrance of his base.

He sat down, there. Slowly he turned around until his back met the smooth wood, and then he pulled his knees close to his body as the chill seeped into his bones. He was too tired to shiver.

The pressure of his knees against his forehead felt nice, despite how the rough texture of his jeans further irritated his skin as Grian rubbed his face against the denim, seeking more of that self-soothing pressure against his throbbing head.

He was tensing the muscles of his calves rhythmically as he started to gently rock himself back and forth. The motion felt good, and the slight strain in his muscles was enough to help ease off some of the pressure of his restlessness.

The sound of rockets didn’t register with him, his mind too frazzled to pick the sound apart from the gentle humming of redstone coming from his faraway storage system.

“There you are.”

Grian didn’t flinch, but he did pause his rocking for a moment - the nervous energy flared up again, stronger than before, and he made a pained sound before resuming the rhythmic motion. Now that he was paying attention, he heard the sound of feet shuffling against the wooden floor somewhere to his left.

A quiet exhale. Then Grian heard fabric shifting, the other hermit sitting down heavily beside him before the room went silent once more.

That was fine.

Grian kept rocking, keeping his forehead pressed tightly against his knees. The blanket was still around his shoulders, the fabric soft and worn, a comfortable presence and weight against his back.

A gentle sigh beside him, followed by the quiet click-and-hiss of a helmet being opened.

“Bad day, huh?”

Grian couldn’t find it in him to attempt to string together a sentence, his mind too frazzled, too fragile. He settled with nodding, hoping the action was distinguishable from the general motions of his rocking.

“Is it okay if I touch you? I don’t want you to stay on the floor, if that’s okay with you.”

Again, Grian nodded. At the first touch of a warm palm against his shoulder, he still flinched. The shock of warmth was so startling that it made him curl in on himself, muscles tightening as he attempted to stay grounded beneath the too-gentle touch.

Luckily, Xisuma seemed to get the message. The grip on him tightened to the point where it was just shy of painful, and then he waited.

Slowly, Grian’s limbs unfroze. He resumed his rocking, the firm hold on his shoulder feeling nice against the way his skin seemed to crawl, too alive and too attentive as it was.

Only then did Xisuma continue, but he seemed to have learned from his previous attempt. Another hand settled at the bend of Grian’s knee, but the touch stayed firm, heavy. Grian allowed the other man to move him, steadily rearranging his limbs until Xisuma could hook one arm beneath his knees while his other hand gripped him around his back - and then Grian was lifted.

With a shudder, he sank into the embrace, no longer able to keep up the rocking motions, and so he settled with seeking out the pressure and warmth of another body against his own.

Xisuma’s arms tightened around him, and then Grian could feel his weight being shifted as Xisuma started walking them somewhere. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, not wanting to risk having even more sensory input right at that very moment.

“Is it fine if I speak? You don’t have to reply if that’s hard right now.”

Grian nodded, feeling the world shifting beneath him at Xisuma’s even footsteps carried them away.

“Okay, good,” Xisuma said, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet at their combined weight. “I wanted to let you know that I’m proud of you.”

And that—

Grian shook his head. No. There was nothing about him to be proud of, not in that moment.

“But Grian, I _am.”_ Xisuma’s tone was light, non confronting - and firm. “Heavens know it’s hard enough to reach out when you’re in a good headspace, so I can’t even imagine how strong you’ve been to ask for help when you’re in a _bad_ one.”

Grian felt a lump in his throat at that, because, how? Had he tricked Xisuma somehow into getting it all wrong? Grian swallowed roughly, before muttering out, “‘m not.”

Xisuma didn’t noticeably react to the sound of his voice, though Grian knew that his voice had sounded awful, choked up from crying and lack of use. “Not what?”

Again, Grian swallowed around the trembling feeling in his throat, “Not strong.”

“Well, that’s where I have to disagree, my friend. You are incredibly strong - maybe even one of the strongest people I know.”

It felt like Grian was shaking apart, limbs trembling as his body went from cold to uncomfortably warm, tears pooling up in his eyes and running hotly down his cheeks, Xisuma’s arms growing almost uncomfortable around him—

“I should be better by now. I shouldn’t need saving.”

Xisuma stopped walking, and for a moment, Grian thought that the admin had realised that Grian was right, that he _should_ be better, be stronger than he was—

But when Grian finally blinked his eyes open against the blurriness of tears clouding his vision, all Xisuma did was to slowly kneel down on Grian’s bed, the smaller man still cradled in his arms.

As the admin sank down into a lounging position against the headboard of the bed, guiding Grian’s limp form with firm hands until the both of them were as comfortable as they could be, Xisuma gave a thoughtful hum. “The way I see it, you ‘avent really asked me for saving, you know.”

“Then what,” Grian replied hoarsely, tears stinging at his eyes. He felt so _tired—_ “would you call this?”

Xisuma’s arm was a warm, heavy weight draped across his back, and Grian was thankful for the way his face was hidden in the crook of the taller man’s neck. He was practically sitting sideways on Xisuma’s lap, and the both of them knew he was crying openly, but at least Xisuma didn’t have to _see_ it. “I see it more like asking if anyone has a pickaxe to lend you, if you were to fall down a ravine without tools.”

Grian blinked, feeling like he was missing something. “What?”

“Yeah. Like, you can’t climb out, so you gotta dig. And you know you gotta dig a path back up to the surface, and you’ve been using your bare hands for a long time. You’ve grown tired. You’re not asking for anyone to teleport you out of there - you’re asking for a pickaxe. It can be a wooden one, even, just so long as you can get _something_ to help get you out of there.”

“But,” Grian said, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper, “it’s not like that at all. I’m not just asking for - for _tools,_ Xisuma. I’m being selfish, I’m asking for so much more than that, basically giving you no choice—”

“Nah,” Xisuma cut him off. Grian could feel him shaking his head, the taller man’s chin brushing over the top of Grian’s head with the movement. “It was definitely my choice to check if I had a spare pickaxe available - or spare energy, or time, if you want me to cut out the metaphor already.”

Grian sniffled, and carefully curled his hand into Xisuma’s shirt. He rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the smooth material shifting gently. He started rubbing his forehead against the man’s shoulder, wanting that pressure on his scalp, ignoring the way he could feel his skin having been rubbed raw and stinging already—

Xisuma’s hand was pressing against the side of his head, stilling his movements. “Could I offer you a scalp massage instead, Grian? Or maybe something cold - or warm - to press against your forehead? The rubbing is hurting your skin.”

“Oh. Yes, please. Or - wait, are you su—”

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with doing it - you’ll just have to trust that I’m competent enough to accurately judge my own abilities and willingness to do nice things for my friends.”

Grian made a small sound. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate—”

“Shh.”

Grian let himself be shushed. Gentle hands started carding through his hair, steadily increasing the pressure until they were working hard circles into his scalp. With a sigh, Grian let his eyes close, relaxing against the taller man.

“You are strong, and damned admirable at that. You won’t be able to change my mind, so you might as well stop trying to do so. You see, it’s not every day that you see such willingness, such _drive_ to survive that they’d be willing to dig through layers upon layers of gravel and stone with their bare hands, a literal uphill climb, just because they knew that when they finally emerge at the top, they’ll get to feel the sun upon their skin again. I’m just someone - one of many, if you’d let them - who’s willing to offer you the tools to make the road a bit easier.”

Grian trembled. It felt impossible, and yet, too easy. It… couldn’t be as simple as Xisuma presented it, surely.

The admin kept massaging his head, giving Grian the time to process, to think.

It… couldn’t be that easy. But then Grian remembered something Mumbo had told him once, back on the previous world, when they’d been having a quiet conversation one early morning about their lives and troubles.

_‘When my anxiety gets the better of me,’_ Mumbo had said, and Grian could remember looking up at the taller man, legs dangling from the redstoner’s spherical base, _‘I try to trick my brain into seeing some sense.’_

_‘How do you do that?’_ Grian had asked.

_‘I ask myself if I’d be as harsh against a friend in the same situation. The answer is always no,_ _but—’_ and Grian had smiled, wryly, at the familiarity of that particular phrase, before Mumbo had continued, _‘it’s different because it’s_ _me,_ _right? So, I ask myself if I truly believe that I am_ _that_ _special and unique. My anxiety won’t let me say yes. It’s like the ultimate triumph card against self deprecating thoughts, I’m telling you.’_

Grian had bit his lip. _‘Does it work?’_

Mumbo had shrugged beside him, tie fluttering in the wind.

_‘Not always. Not at first. But I kept doing it, and the more I tell it to myself, the more I believe it. It’s a matter of practice, I suppose.’_

“Grian?”

He blinked his eyes open, and felt that Xisuma’s hands had stopped moving against his head.

Hesitatingly, Grian said, “If… if Mumbo was having a day like this.” He paused, swallowing around the thick feeling in his throat. Xisuma waited patiently as Grian found his words. “I would not think of him as weak.”

“What would you think of him as, Grian?” Xisuma asked, voice gentle.

Grian swallowed again. It felt almost impossible to get the word out, but so long as he focused on the mental image of his friend, he knew he could do it.

“Strong.”

“I would, too. Why would it be any different with you?”

Grian should know better. He should _be_ better. He should have come further, he should stop whining, stop being so dramatic, he should just _get over it already—_

He didn’t say any of that. What finally left his mouth was, “It wouldn’t. I’m… very great and all, but I’m not so special as to be the one exception to that.”

_Lies._

...But was it, truly?

Xisuma’s arms tightened around him, and Grian wondered when they had moved from his head. Grian blinked, drowsily. He was tired. He wondered if Xisuma would mind it if he were to fall asleep.

“Do you mean it?”

Grian mumbled back, “Not yet.”

“That’s fine. I’m so, so proud of you. You’re gonna dig your way out, Grian. You’re not alone. We’re all here with pickaxes and beacons to spare, you just need to reach out your hand and accept them when we’re offering.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song rec: Sleep thru ur alarms - Lontalius


End file.
